Daubing Duo
By
I can picture Steve Roberts and LeeAnn Juckll scanning groceries at their respective registers in the morning while nit-picking the details of the night’s action at Pot O’ Gold Bingo Hall. Neither would lose focus in their cashier duties as they reminisce about the time when Steve was one daub away from winning the “speedo” round or when the two of them were waiting on O-62 to complete their diagonal and win a round of double bingo.
Roberts and Juckll have been frequenting Pot O’ Gold in Arden Hills for a few years since their old hall, Knights of Columbus, closed down. They are a powerful daubing duo – they finish their shift at Cub Foods in Fridley, buy two bags of Twizzlers (tonight Steve splurged and bought a chocolate bunny, too) and then they head to the bingo hall where he supplies green and blue daubers and she brings pink and red.
With my Beetle Bailey dauber in hand, a gag gift from my aunt when I turned 18, I walk into the hall with hopes of turning my one dollar into many more by investing in a five-dollar bingo package, the cheapest available. As I glance around the high-ceilinged, rectangle room with my paper playing cards in hand, I’m overwhelmed by the dozens of TV screens displaying bingo balls, the aroma of greasy food wafting from the snack bar and the stage that displays the caller, seated in front of a flannel curtain.
Yet, amidst the pale yellow, windowless walls I scan the diverse crowd (in age, ethnicity and gender) and instantly pick out Steve and LeeAnn as a pair of friendly faces who know what they are doing – the game hadn’t even started yet and they were prepping their cards. I sit down across from them, tell them I’m new at the game and instantly I’m taken on as their protégé.
No numbers are being called yet so I take instruction from Steve as more players shuffle into the room and seat themselves at the long tables. Most of them are dressed in tight jeans or Spandex with baggy sweatshirts and wind jackets. Everyone carries multiple game boards for the many different sessions that will be played tonight, such as four corners, cloverleaf and bonanza coverall. Each game carries a cash prize of $50 to $600. Steve walks me through each of my boards, telling me to daub here and cross off there, and he says that by crossing off the spots that aren’t used during certain games (such as the I-column during a game of four corners) we will save ourselves from confusion during the hustle of number calling.
My boards are ready to go as the first number is called. Steve hums a little tune after each number and sings it out loud. I’m not sure if he is doing this to help me or if it’s a habit of his - I presume the latter.
My bingo coaches are middle-aged Americans who haven’t experienced much outside of the Minnesota suburbs, love to brag about their families, have dauber stains on the front of their shirts and say ‘dammit’ when someone yells ‘bingo’ before they do. They enjoy playing for the entertainment value and the opportunity to win. Steve tells me it’s cheaper than the bars and you can’t get a DWI because no alcohol is served at the hall.
As the game draws closer to the end I must be slowing down; Steve reaches across the table and as it’s being called he daubs N-44 for me. I smile and thank him as he chuckles exclaiming, “You gotta challenge these college kids.” I start to giggle along with him but our neighboring table silences us by telling us to “shush.” Just when it couldn’t get much worse than being yelled at in a bingo hall, someone covers their final space and pronounces “bingo.” In unison, the hall replies with a collective moan.
Lately Pot O’ Gold manager Kelly Robinson shares in that feeling of disappointment. According to her, bingo is a dying hobby. “We used to get over 300 people a session and have people sitting in the lobby listening to the speaker, now we’re lucky if we get over 100,” she said.
Bingo halls lost a lot of customers to nearby casinos when the smoking ban was implemented last fall; here is a list of current halls. Robinson said she still sees most of her regulars and has a steady stream of college students playing on the weekends. When Robinson was college-aged she played bingo frequently with her friends. They would walk around their chairs in a superstitious manner, giggling throughout the routine. Now, as a manager, she sees many players who lay out good luck charms or yell at people who are sitting in “their” seat.
“I’ve seen it all,” Robinson said. “Sometimes people get mad when you wish them luck when they are buying their package… another lady brings in a ton of stuff, including a potted bonsai tree and a lot of trolls.”
Although I didn’t see any greenery, and I didn’t win a single round, I did have the privilege of gaming with two of Pot O’ Gold’s pros who frequently enjoying exchanging their Cub Foods cloaks and register keys for their luckiest t-shirts and bingo daubers.